“I was just on the point of telephoning the police to see if you had been found in the river.”
Mamise did not bother either to explain her past lies or tell any new ones. She majestically answered:
“Polly darling, I have been engaged in affairs of state, which I am not at liberty to divulge to the common public.”
“Rot!” said Polly. “I believe the ‘affairs,’ but not the ‘state.’”
Mamise was above insult. “Some day you will know. You’ve heard of Helen of Troy, the lady with the face that launched a thousand ships? Well, this face of mine will launch at least half a dozen freight-boats.”
Polly yawned. “I’ll call my doctor in the morning and have you taken away quietly. Your mind’s wandering, as well as the rest of you.”
Mamise chuckled like a child with a great secret, and Polly waddled back to her bed.
Next morning Mamise woke into a world warm with her own importance, though the thermometer was farther down than Washington’s oldest records. She called Davidge on the long-distance telephone, and there was a zero in his voice that she had never heard before.
“This is Mamise,” she sang.
“Yes?” Simply that and nothing more.